


i'm no longer what you wanted

by adnyx



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 21:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14777460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adnyx/pseuds/adnyx
Summary: "Sorry, Jackie."The story of Gabriel Reyes and Jack Morrison is over once the roaring sound of explosion ruptures their eardrums.





	i'm no longer what you wanted

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from time waster by the colourist
> 
> i hope you enjoy?

You will make it,  _ she said, unplugging the abundant devices connected to his body. Dark gray curls of thick smoke barely obscured the view of his own torso fading in and out of opaqueness; he watches his gloved hands disappear and reappear. He feels his cells rapidly degenerate and regenerate in an infinite loop - at least, that's what she said. If Jesse told him he was different than what he used to be, the mentor of Jesse McCree and the powerful leader of Blackwatch, that he was now empty and  _ dead, _ the kid was damn right. He feels himself rot on the inside, and the distant click of the scientist’s heels on the linoleum floor echoes in the back of his head. _

 

Gabriel caught Dr. O’Deorain with her bags packed and her study's door locked.

 

“You leaving, Doctor?” in retrospect, that was a stupid question, he thought to himself.

“I am, indeed. Your… partner had sent me an e-mail this morning.” Moira’s voice is ever so unwavering, face unreadable. She was always like that - quite a tough person, that is. Just like the rest of Blackwatch Gabriel had gathered.

 

That was, however, not a good thing to focus on right now.

 

Reyes understood what did O’Deorain meant by that. Jack had personally announced it to Gabriel: Moira O'Deorain was  _ fired, fired for ethical reasons.  _ Of course, Morrison never knew what kind of experiments did she test out on him, since he never had the time to check on Blackwatch missions; hence the Strike-Commander never saw the Blackwatch commander disappear into thin air, just to materialize again in another spot. He never saw Reyes becoming a monster.

 

That didn't mean Morrison and the rest didn't have to suffer the consequences and side effects. A great example of such an accident was  _ Venice _ ; a mission that left both his career and relationships broken, akin to a fine china vase with a deep crack in it, waiting for its whole base to shatter on an eventful day.

 

Judging by Moira's words, the day is today.

 

“Get ready, Reyes.”

 

He doesn't know what exactly does she mean by that. He doesn't exactly know what did he sign up for, or if Moira is some kind of a double agent, but in the very beginning, she had warned him.

 

_ “There is something I and my previous employer are planning for Overwatch.” she looked away, seemingly disinterested; he knew she wasn't. “I will warn you when the time comes.” _

 

But Gabriel Reyes isn't stupid. He theorized a lot about what did the geneticist meant by  _ something she is planning _ ; the result was getting clearer by the time she had completed a few experiments of him. He can teleport, become partly invisible  _ and _ invincible for a particular amount of time, and is able to, it seems, recover his own wounds by absorbing others’ damage. No matter how disturbing it may seem, Reyes had eliminated all but one conclusion so far.

 

Moira was planning to end Overwatch. By means of destroying the headquarters first.

 

It made sense - to him, at least. He could become invisible or teleport away from the area of attack, and in case he does get injured, he would tend to his own wounds by placing himself next to damaged people. 

 

Maybe, her  _ past employer  _ (he feels as though it's a terroristic organization or something.) planned to take over Overwatch, or destroy it. He would rather have the former than the latter. If Overwatch taken over, that would be  _ dangerous.  _ If it were destroyed, well, that was a matter of time, anyways.

 

“Got it.” he went straight out the door, a sinking feeling in his chest he had last felt back in his teenage years.

 

_ “You will be remade. Your life shall be, too. You will no longer be Gabriel Reyes.” _

 

At first, he didn't understand; how did he agree to this? How did he not think of Ana, or Jesse, or,  _ god damn it,  _ Jack? 

 

Well, time answered his questions one by one, like a landslide, an avalanche coming crashing down on his head. Everyone dear to him was… lost. He’s been through this before, he’s seen a lot of shit, just not this kind of shit; no matter how silly it was, he had thought - hoped, even, - that Jack and him would last after everything they’ve come through. But time, time,  _ time _ proved him wrong over and over, again and again.

 

He sighs as he walks past the now-locked door in the Blackwatch dorm. Jesse had retired six days ago.

 

_ Gabriel never locked his office door; if anyone ever needed to talk to him, grab some paper forms they needed, or literally anything else, they could come in safely whenever they wanted. Many told him it would be unsafe and threatening to his life, but he never cared much. (Neither he admitted that most reasons that pushed him to do that were, in all actuality, Genji and Jesse.) _

 

_ He noticed the absence of a few retirement papers on his desk. He thought some rookie couldn't bear the pressure, or an old colleague got sick and tired of being in the black ops; what he didn't, however, expect, was his protegé locking his dorm door with a bag over his shoulder next morning. _

 

_ “Blackwatch’s changed, Boss.” he murmured, the southern drawl ever so present and thick in his speech. His voice and hands trembled when he inhaled shakily. “So did you.” _

 

_ Gabriel felt as though he wanted to snap, or be mad at him, at best, but soon understood: that was why Jesse left. One of the reasons, to be exact; Reyes’ temper was getting worse and worse over time, Venice being the climax. _

 

_ So he stayed calm. “Stay safe, mijo.” _

 

_ So he stood there and watched McCree light a cigarillo as he fumbled with the door handle. So he let his student leave as his chest sank. _

 

_ So he let his sparrow fly out of the nest. _

 

_ The next day, Jack stormed into his office after an Overwatch mission. His face was twisted in what seemed to be remorse (he didn't look like that after he arrived back.), and then his face fell in his hands. _

 

_ “Gabe,” he breathed out, voice hoarse, “Gabe.” _

 

_ “What is it?” Jack gave him a serious glare, as though Gabriel had tried to joke at his suffering, even though he didn't. O’Deorain's experiments were taking its toll on him, on his personality, as a result of “side effects.”  _ That doesn't mean you can be an asshole,  _ he reminds himself,  _ but that doesn't mean you don't hate Overwatch.  _ He hated himself for that at first, but he did dislike the limelight agents. He always kept in touch with Jack and Ana, though. Speaking of her, why didn't he see her when Jack and the rest got back? _

 

_ “Gabe,” the blonde choked out, his facial expression now unwavering,  _ “Ana is dead.”

Gabriel exhales tiredly. All these memories were taking their toll on him.

 

_ “She can't be,” he can feel his breath pick up his pace as cold sweat prickles the nape of his neck. Hyperventilation was never a good thing. “she can't.” _

 

_ “But  _ she is.”  _ Jack's voice is still hoarse, and for a second he lifts his head again just to meet Gabriel's eye. It startles him to think of the differences between them that multiplied as time went by, and it outright scares him when he feels hate for Jack Morrison (whom he once adored) burn down his throat. _

 

_ It startles him to think that Ana Amari, who literally prevented the two commanders from either simultaneously falling into a fever of melancholy or getting at each other's throats, is no longer alive. What about Fareeha? Or Ana’s husband? _

 

_ The Strike-Commander's head falls in his hands again, and he doesn't move an inch when Reyes sits next to him and squeezes his hand. _

 

He only has Jack now. But Jack doesn't have him.

 

And it's tragic, really.

 

He walks into a shiny, clean, refreshingly bright and spacious building - Overwatch’s headquarters. He hates how dazzlingly white it looks. There's a crowd of about thousands of people, mostly UN staff and peacekeepers. Professional-level staff stand still or fumble with their papers feverishly; assistants hustle across the hall, going from one regional officer to another as the office representatives line up in a neat row.

 

That reminds Gabriel of something. He doesn't hate the UN itself; he hates the  _ stupid decisions they make concerning Overwatch.  _ God, does he hate Overwatch. And the worshipping of Jack Morrison is literally the smallest part of the reasons why does he hate this organization.

 

Stupid decisions for the sake of heroism, missions that seem equally  _ heroic _ but do nothing for the well-being of the world, and the broken promises of a world peace they made… They were uncountable. He hated every single thing about Overwatch, except Jack Morrison and Ana Amari. The latter was lost.

 

Today was the day this all would end, though.

 

Reyes slips into the messy, loud crowd of people gathered here for today's meeting. The Strike-Commander was about to announce something, they said. And Gabriel thinks: announce my ass. He was still torn apart, torn between loving and hating Jack Morrison to his death. Ironically enough, their death is today.

 

He says something; Gabriel can barely make anything out at this point, for his mind is full of explosive, ruinous, destructive thoughts about explosive, ruinous, destructive events about to happen.

 

Jack gestures at the crowd. “And that is why-”

 

_ Alarm. Alarm. Evacuate everyone. _

 

“What the h-”

 

_ Evacuate everyone. Danger. Danger. _

 

Jack is being shooed away by a few UN officials, and in no time does Gabe catch up to him. Morrison's eyes are wide open, and just like that and with this lighting can Gabriel notice the crow’s feet beneath said eyes, the wrinkles on his forehead and how pale and thin his lips have become. He takes in the sight of the Strike-Commander; his best friend (and lover.) for now, his next best enemy. 

 

“Gabe, what the hell’s goin’ on?!” He shouts with the crowd; everybody is too busy fighting and running for their lives, all just to save their asses. How pathetic.

 

“No idea, Morrison-” he’s good at lying. Years of leading Overwatch, and then Blackwatch, helped him lie and lie more. He suddenly remembers O’Deorain's words -  _ you will no longer be Gabriel Reyes -  _ and he suddenly feels sick right at that moment. “-shouldn’t we evacuate, too?”

 

“We have to ensure everyone’s safe first!”

 

Ah, that stupid heroism he was talking about before resurfaced… Is his point clear yet?

 

If it isn't, he hates how painfully, shamelessly fake Overwatch's good deeds are. Blackwatch isn't the best, either, he knew it from the beginning, but at least they're not showcasing whatever shit they messed up and filling up their fake hero trophy case. Morrison was a good Strike-Commander for the first decade, and everyone was at his side, himself included. Ana, Gérard, Angela, Torbjörn, Reinhardt, damn, even his Blackwatch boys Jesse and Genji - all trusted him with what he was doing. 

 

Maybe Gabriel caused the world to distrust Overwatch. He doesn't regret that.

 

Gabriel Reyes doesn't believe in heroes. In characters or dramatis personae he does, but not in  _ heroes. _ Heroism itself is an overrated term coined by a villain who needed an excuse for his deeds.

 

“Gabe?” Jack hears meek beeping in the background; a few short screams follow. “Gabe!”

 

He knows what that meant.

 

“Sorry, Jackie.”

 

The story of Gabriel Reyes and Jack Morrison is over once the roaring sound of explosion ruptures their eardrums. 

 

***

 

It's warm.

 

Jack feels heat embrace him, and initially, it feels as though blood is pooling all over him, all around him. He opens his eyes, a truly worthless attempt, for everything he sees is blurry and unclear. He blinks a few tears away; the ringing in his ears and the explosion in his head don't seem to cease or die down.

 

Funnily enough, he doesn't see much blood all over him. What he finds instead is some dark, jet black fog all around his body. What mattered to him most is where did the only person he had left went. Did… did he  _ die? _

 

“Gabriel?” 

 

The fog unwraps itself from his body, and he swears he hears someone whisper  _ “I'm sorry.”  _ in his ear.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! constructive criticism is more than welcome.


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